


the quidditch match

by zigsexual (anythingbutloud)



Series: hogwarts au [4]
Category: The Royal Romance (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts AU, M/M, drake is a keeper, liam is still a nerd, more chaotic jock energy from riley and max, riley and maxwell are beaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26382928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythingbutloud/pseuds/zigsexual
Summary: they're playing slytherin, and for the first time ever, liam is there.
Relationships: Liam/Drake Walker, Maxwell Beaumont/Main Character (The Royal Romance)
Series: hogwarts au [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917403
Kudos: 3





	the quidditch match

**Author's Note:**

> runaway drabble that ended up over 2k featuring little to no actual quidditch! big thanks to all of you enjoying this little au world, it’s so much fun to play with 💕

“Your Prefect is here,” Maxwell says, swinging up alongside him on his broom, obnoxious grin on full display. The match hasn’t even started yet and he’s already being annoying. Drake grits his teeth, but hazards a look in the direction of the Ravenclaw stands anyway. He can barely make out anyone. 

“How can you even tell?” 

“Did a fly by earlier. He’s got his books with him still.” Maxwell twirls the club in his hand, still grinning. “Does he really plan to study during the game? God, Ravenclaws are so weird.”

“Is Hana with him?” Drake squints at the rows of tiny people. There’s probably some kind of telescope spell for this. Maybe he’d know it if he wasn’t failing Charms. “Hana’s usually good at cheering for us.”

“Well, she’s definitely here somewhere.” Maxwell shrugs. “Go look yourself — you can bat your eyelashes at Liam while you’re at it.”

Drake scowls. “Eat shit, Beaumont.”

Maxwell just laughs, never remotely fazed by Drake’s retorts. “Don’t fuck up the game, okay? It’ll be so embarrassing if you lose in front of him.”

Before Drake can get another jab in, Maxwell gives him an overdramatic salute and flies off towards the middle of the pitch, leaving him alone by the goalposts and thoroughly irritated. 

The game starts about as well as can be expected, especially with Slytherin as their adversary. Rivalry tends to bring out the best in both teams, and the noise from the stands is thunderous. 

Drake has his work cut out for him, and though he hates to admit it, he’s grateful for the extra hours he’d spent in practice that week with Maxwell, who is arguably the best with his broom out of anyone at school. It’s infuriating, as Maxwell never lets anyone forget it, but there’s no question he’s a benefit to the team. Last season, he’d actually hung upside down off his broom to hit a bludger out of their lead chaser’s face, and no one shut up about it for months.

(The reality is, of course, that Maxwell is good at flying because it’s all he knows. Not much use to staying on the ground when you grow up with a father like his.)

They’re just barely ahead at their first break, and when the team meets for a brief huddle in the air, everyone is red-cheeked and panting. It’s punishingly cold in the winter air, but the adrenaline keeps them warm for now.

“You good?” Riley asks him after the breakout, summoning her water bottle into her hand from the field below. She offers him a sip, but he shakes his head.

“I’ll be good if we win.”

“When we win.”

“Right.”

As he takes his place back at the goalposts, he glances back towards the stands for a moment, scanning across the rows in the Ravenclaw section as though he’ll magically be able to spot Liam. He wonders if Liam really is studying, or if maybe he’d been watching all along, and maybe he’d seen the particularly impressive last-second save Drake had made against Slytherin’s best chaser, and now maybe he’s dying to get a chance to know such a spectacular Quidditch player better and potentially fall in love with him and spend the rest of their lives together.

Probably not.

Maxwell and Riley are playing at the top of their game, loud cracks echoing across the stadium as they send bludgers careening towards the Slytherin players. Riley actually hits one of their chasers square in the nuts, which sends up a roar of delight from the Gryffindor stands. She lifts her club in the air with one hand, grinning broadly, and Maxwell returns the gesture to her from his spot across the field.

Drake manages to head off another chaser trying to take advantage of the distraction, holding in a laugh as he watches it all play out in the background. When he pauses to catch his breath, he thinks (foolishly) that maybe he might make it out of this match unscathed. 

Naturally, he gets hit in the face with a bludger almost immediately after, sending him backwards off his broom like some novice first year. He scrambles to get a hold on the stick before he falls, managing to grab a handful of the tail brush and swinging back up by the skin of his teeth. He rights himself on the broom and wipes the blood out of his eyes with his sleeve, grimacing as soon as he brushes across his nose. Fuck — definitely broken.

When he finally focuses back on the game, it’s just in time to see their seeker catch the snitch. So, at least something goes right.

The nurse fixes his nose on the pitch afterwards, tsking as she sets the bones with her wand. “Keep breaking it like this, Walker, and one day I won’t have a single spell good enough to help you.”

“Thank you,” he says begrudgingly, waiting as she mutters incantations under her breath to clean up the blood. When she taps the skin under his eye with the tip of her wand, he winces, and he can already tell that he’s about to have a massive shiner. 

Great. Just in time for Yule Ball. 

Riley comes bounding up the second he’s released, her hair now a wild, windswept mess across her shoulders. “Did you break it? I have money on that bingo square, so I have to report back.”

“You have a bingo square for me getting injured?” Drake scowls at her. “I’m on your fucking team, you know.”

She shrugs demurely. “I don’t bet against fate.”

“Fuck you, Brooks.”

“I’m gonna take that as a yes.” She inspects his face for a moment. “Damn, you’re gonna have a nasty black eye in a few hours.”

“I’m well aware. No thanks to you.” 

“You know the dodging is like, half your job, right?”

“Isn’t it all of your job?”

She grins, smacking him on the shoulder. “Okay, yeah, but let’s just agree to blame Maxwell.”

“Noted.” He smiles back at her, but the movement quickly shifts to a grimace. “Shit, she forgot to do a numbing spell. I don’t suppose you know any?”

Riley shakes her head. “Even if I did, I’m not fucking with your face. It’s been through enough.”

“Again, no thanks to you.” He looks back over his shoulder, trying to make out where the nurse may have gone. People have started flooding down from the stands, and it’s near impossible to single anyone out from this distance. “Can you let everyone know I’m gonna be late to our huddle? It should just be a few.”

“I’ll tell them Hot Prefect wanted to meet you under the bleachers.”

“Riley.”

“Oh my god, chill out,” she laughs, already walking backwards away from him. “You know I’ve got you. See you there!”

She spins on her heel, slinging her broom over her shoulder as she walks. Drake really hopes she’s kidding with that last comment, but one can never be too sure. Maxwell’s influence is strong in her.

He sets off across the field, keeping an eye out for the pitch nurse, but it only takes him a few minutes to realize the search is futile. It seems like the whole school has congregated in the area now. Again, he wonders if there’s a spell for something like this that he might actually know if he weren’t failing Charms, but alas. He decides to cut his losses and head to the Infirmary. They know him well enough there by now anyway.

It takes him a while to reach the castle; walking anywhere in Quidditch gear after a match (especially a winning one) is just begging to be accosted by fellow Gryffindors. He pushes through the high-fives and jubilant slaps on the back, slipping out of conversations as quickly as he can until the masses finally subside. The closer he gets to his destination, the less there are. Not a lot of action in this area of the castle, thankfully.

When he turns the last corner, he stops short at the sight in front of him.

“Oh,” says Liam, looking up at the sound of his footsteps. “Hello.”

Drake is frozen, watching him with wide eyes. It’s just ridiculous that a person can look like that, all tall, dark, and handsome with a smile that’s somehow the brightest thing in the room. Walking oxymoron with perfect hair, that’s what he is.

“Infirmary?” Liam guesses. “I saw you get hit at the end there.”

Fuck. Of course he had. Drake struggles to find his voice. “Yeah. Just, uh, need a numbing spell.”

“Are you okay?” Liam asks, stepping closer. He seems genuinely concerned, which is sweet, but also highly indicative of how little time he’s spent watching Quidditch. “It looked like it hurt.”

“Oh,” Drake shrugs. “Nah, I’m fine. Par for the course, really.”

And then Liam reaches out and brushes his fingers over Drake’s nose, completely unexpectedly. Drake stills, breath caught in his throat, unable to move until Liam finally pulls his hand away. 

“She did a good job with the mending spell,” Liam says, as if touching people’s faces to assess spellwork is a perfectly normal thing to do. “You can’t tell at all.”

Drake just stares, every nerve in his body lit up like static electricity, face flushing red. “Yeah. Um. She does it a lot, so.”

Rather unexpectedly, Liam’s cheeks color, and he bites his lip. “Sorry. That was weird of me to do.”

Drake shakes his head, trying desperately to impart how much he absolutely doesn’t mind Liam doing any sort of unprovoked touching, etiquette be damned. “Nah, it’s… it’s okay. Really.” 

“No, it was definitely weird.” Somehow, in his embarrassment, Liam looks slightly more human. “It’s just that I think medicinal magic is particularly fascinating. You don’t get a lot of exposure to it in practice, just theory.”

“Spoken like a true Ravenclaw,” Drake manages a smile, heart still pounding in his ears. “Always casting the spells, never needing them.”

“Well, what would be the use of people like me without people like you?” Liam smiles back.

“Standing around and looking pretty, I suppose,” Drake says, still a bit punch drunk from the bludger hit. He cringes internally as soon as the sentence is out of his mouth — Jesus Christ, no wonder he’s never dated anyone — but Liam doesn’t seem repulsed at all. In fact, he laughs. 

“I don’t know,” he replies, “I think Gryffindor has that one covered.”

Drake has barely processed the words before Liam gestures to his nose and says, “It’s a bit of a muggle remedy, but you might want to try icing it.”

“Okay,” Drake answers dumbly. 

“Take care, then,” Liam steps aside, nodding to him in a shift back to his prior formality. “And thanks for inviting me to the match. I’m glad I came.”

Again, “Okay.” 

When Liam walks away, he takes all the breath in Drake’s lungs with him, leaving Drake to slump against the wall uselessly as he watches him go. For fuck’s sake, what had just happened? Are they friends now? Was that flirting? He isn’t quite sure; honestly, he isn’t quite sure about anything when it comes to Liam, except for the way his presence makes everything go foggy and stupid. 

Speaking of stupid — ‘okay’? Really? God. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to get his bearings again. At least the pain shooting through his face is somewhat grounding.

And, then, like an internal monologue come to life, he hears them. “What the hell was that?”

He groans, leaning his head back against the wall. “For fuck’s sake.”

Riley and Maxwell emerge around the opposite corner like mischievous raccoons, all sorts of conspicuous in their Quidditch gear. Riley’s eyes are wide with glee, while Maxwell looks to be on the verge of laughter. 

“Why are you here?” Drake complains, “You’re supposed to be at huddle.”

“Why on earth would we go to huddle when we can have free entertainment like this?” Maxwell answers, grinning. “A masterclass, Drake, really.”

Riley shoves him playfully, but she’s certainly enjoying the moment in her own way. “We decided to skip and see if we could sneak out to Hogsmede for drinks, so we were coming here to meet you, and then the opportunity to spy just presented itself.” She shrugs. “If it’s any consolation, you were doing pretty well until the end there.”

“Wonderful. Thanks for the input.”

Riley bridges the gap between them, slinging an arm around his shoulder and ushering him forward. “Come on then, lover boy, let’s get your face sorted out and go. Maxwell says he knows someone who can buy us firewhiskey.”

“Ugh,” Drake frowns, but begrudges her, shuffling forward towards his original destination. “Since when do we trust any of the people Maxwell ‘knows’?”

“Fair,” Maxwell says, “But beggars can’t be choosers. Now let’s hurry up and go lose all the house points we just won, okay?”

“Okay,” Drake says.

Maxwell and Riley both laugh, but he doesn’t mind it so much this time.


End file.
